Mutual Release (32 page)

A shadow fell over her desk and she jumped, grateful to halt the seemingly unstoppable onrush of images she had spent too long squelching in favor of forward motion and flat out avoidance.

“What?” she snapped, turning to face whoever was invading her space. Her head hurt and jaw ached from clenching it. “How did I know it would be you?” She leaned back and ignored how relieved she was to see Evan Adams standing there. “You have got to be the most persistent man on the planet. Or maybe you’re just annoying but cute, so I tolerate you.”

“I’m going with cute,” he said. “So, are you packed?”

“Am I what?”

“It’s Thanksgiving week. Surely even daredevils such as yourself take a few days off? You know… eat some turkey and dressing and stuff?” He tilted his head as if confused by her obtuseness.

“Oh, right.” She shrugged. Thanksgiving to her meant two days at home, alone, bracketed by retail therapy. She had not had a real Thanksgiving in… well… her whole life. “I don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. Never have.”

“I figured as much.” He walked around to stand in front of her, pulled her up without ceremony or preamble, and closed her laptop.

“Um, excuse me, I am working here.” She backed up, shoving her desk chair behind her. “Go on, surely you have a lovely Nelson Rockwell-worthy shindig to attend? It’s bar night, the biggest of the year. You can’t leave your beer bar for that.” She could hear herself babbling. “Listen, Evan, I think it’s really sweet how you keep trying to… do whatever it is you’re doing to me, I mean with me. I mean… shit.” She kept backing up, and he kept stepping closer. Finally she held up a hand.

He took it, kissed it, and then wrapped her fingers around the soft leather handle of a decent-sized carry-on bag. “How about you stop talking for five seconds and just go with your instincts?” He remained close, but without touching her. “And it’s Norman.”

“If you think this is some way to get me in bed with you, I’m…huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Go on. I’m dying to know what you will do if I think that.
Norman
Rockwell, not Nelson.”

She blew out a breath and shoved her way past him. Nervous energy coursed through her at the thought of getting on a plane and going somewhere with him without any planning or forethought on her part whatsoever. It was… “Out of the question,” she said, putting the leather bag on the floor. “I don’t act on a whim. I can’t just… go off… with you.”

He kept following her around the desk, his persistence making her panicky but with a distinct flutter of anticipation. “Julie, shh…” He held out a hand as if calming a rabid animal trapped in the corner. “Calm down. I am not kidnapping you, for Christ’s sake. Just getting you to be a little more spontaneous. You guys are closed the rest of the week, I know you are. C’mon. Please?” He held out both hands and shot her a real Disney-worthy puppy-dog face.

“Why are you doing this,” she whispered, as he moved closer and gathered her in his arms. It was their first real embrace, and she never wanted it to end. But her brain kept sending up flare signals of warning, so she heeded them and disentangled herself. “Answer the question,” she said, keeping him at arms’ length.

He shrugged, reminding her how fucking adorable he was. “I like you. God help me.”

“Well… stop it.” She turned away, put her hands on the freezing cold window. “I don’t need any more… friends. Or people liking me. I’m fine by myself.” She closed her eyes a split second, not even willing to acknowledge the blatant untruth.

“But I do. And I think you’d make a fine addition to my friend collection. Listen, it’s no big deal. I have two plane tickets to New York. I have always wanted to see the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade live. Don’t tell me you haven’t. And while I was at it, I bought tickets to a couple of shows and made reservations at some restaurant I found in Zagat’s which claims to put on the traditional feast from start to finish. You surely don’t expect me to do all that shit by myself?” He crossed his arms as if blocking any rebuttal to his astonishing and utterly out-of-the-question invitation.

She turned to face him. “You have a lot of nerve, you know that?”

“I’ve been told worse.”

“No, seriously, Evan. Stop liking me. You’ll be better off. I’m… no fun, really. Not when you really get to know me. I’m obsessive, borderline compulsive, a neat freak, a-a-a show-off, and I snore. Oh, and if I drink wine I get the hiccups and can’t stop.”

“So, we will drink beer. I’ll let you clean the hotel room before the maid gets there, and I’ll find you a karaoke bar. As for snoring, well, that makes two of us.” He held out a hand. “If I promise to tell you something important about me while we’re there, will you please accompany me to The Big Apple for Thanksgiving weekend?”

She narrowed her eyes but her heart was singing with happiness. Which could only lead to one thing – disappointment. That’s all any man had ever meant to her. Well, that and fear. “Fine. But did you get separate rooms?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Country Club, making some serious assumptions, aren’t you?”

“It’s actually the Presidential Suite at the Ritz. There is only one actual bedroom, but plenty of other horizontal spaces you can crash on.”

“Ha, got me there.” She was trembling for some reason. “I’m… not sure about this.”

As if sensing her mounting panic, he pulled her close, kissed the top of her hair, and wouldn’t let her go until her shaking stopped. “Now, see… all is well.” He took her shoulders and held her out so he could stare into her eyes. “It will always be well with me. If you would let me show you.” He pressed a soft, noncommittal kiss to her lips, picked up the bag and put it back in her hand. “We’re late, Daredevil. Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”

She frowned, processing his words and trying to ignore their meaning, and started to gather her laptop and briefcase. But he put a hand on her back. She jumped, startled, turning to him. His hand moved lower, to her hip, firm and warm and in command. She gulped. “Hands off the merchandise,” she ground out. “I mean it… Evan… I’m…”

But he had her, and she knew it. His kiss was firm and took her places she had never been and didn’t even know existed. Both of his hands buried in her hair as her arms crept up around his neck. Urgency claimed her, demanded things of her she didn’t fully understand. He moaned, a low, almost animal sound, as he back-walked her to the low table behind her desk, never taking his lips from hers. The room faded, she started to protest, but his hands were everywhere, and where they weren’t, his lips were.

She shifted as he shoved her skirt up and put his hand against her sex. But panic teased around the edges of the lusty energy pounding through her. She gripped his neck, slid her hands into his hair. Every inch of her skin was on fire, but she shook as if freezing.

Get it over with, just… let him…
“Oh,” she exhaled when his fingers grazed the outside of her panties. Her legs spread, she leaned back as his lips traveled down her neck. Fear, spiked with an urgency so strong she no longer cared she was letting a man grope his way up her skirt in her office, latched onto her. She couldn’t breathe, and at her gasp, he tugged her face down so he could see her. “Please, don’t s-s-stop.” She bit her lip when he pulled his hand from its very pleasant location, mere inches from what she wanted but didn’t want at the same time. She jerked her chin out of his hand, frustrated and angry at him, at herself, and at her whole stupid life.

“Julie, stop,” he whispered as he cupped her neck and drew her close to his lips again. “Calm down. This is not how we are going to start.”

Her eyes flew open, shocked. She put her hand right on his zipper, flinching then trying not to make a noise at the heft and length of what was under it. He didn’t move, let her run her hand up and down his erection. “I may have not had sex in a while, but I do know what this means.” She started to ease his zipper down, eager and terrified in equal measure.

He shut his eyes, let her reach in and put her trembling hand around his cock.

“Am I wrong? Have I forgotten already?” she whispered, running her thumb over the pearled moisture beading his head. Shoving aside the very real compulsion to run away, she ran her tongue over his lips, loving the way his breathing changed, increased in direct proportion to her hand’s movement.

“I hear it’s like riding a bike.” His voice was steady and made her pause. Something about the way he stood, letting her do whatever she wanted to him while remaining in complete control, touched a nerve.

“You know how I seduced James, right? The poor guy… a sucker for a really great blow job… My skills are…” She bit his earlobe and slid off the table, moving him back enough so she could drop to her knees. “… excellent, I hear.” This she understood. This she controlled. Even if the guy was hung like a –

She sucked in a breath when she got a good look at him. He let her touch her tongue to the tip of his shaft, get a small taste. Then with a quick, firm jerk had her back on her feet and himself zipped back up. His eyes were dark, serious, and they caused her pounding heart to instantly calm and the terror skittering around in her brain to still. She looked down for some reason, unable to meet his gaze. Odd for a woman who prided herself on eye contact at every turn. She could not face him, but it was somehow all right.

“Listen to me, Julie,” he said, his voice in no way betraying the condition of his body. “I know you think you understand me. But you don’t. There is a part of me that’s dark. Not bad, but… hard to grasp. Even I have a tough time with it. And you bring something out in me I haven’t felt in so long I… You have to know I’m struggling with what to do about it.”

She kept looking down, somehow sensing it was the right thing. That the private space she inhabited by not meeting his eyes was where she was supposed to be at that moment.
Julie, you have truly lost it.
She tried to raise her head, to just look at him. But simply could not. He stroked her hair, her arm then brought her hand to his lips.

“You have so many things roiling through you. So much you are trying to prove to yourself, to me, to the world,” he whispered. “What I need is for you to trust me. Not a quick and dirty fuck in your office, or even what will undoubtedly be a class-A blow job.” He sighed, and the moment shifted, changed, and something released in her, leaving her knees so wobbly she stumbled when he stepped away from her. He caught her, held her as a torrent of tears surprised and scared her, but somehow didn’t faze him in the slightest. “I know, I know… shh…” He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead while she made thoroughly disgusting and embarrassing snotty noises, but unable to stop. “This won’t be easy. But you’ve taken the first step,” he said as she gripped him around his waist, afraid to let go. “Now, let’s head to the airport. I have a fun weekend planned, remember?”

She stepped out of the warm circle of his embrace and took the tissue he held out for her. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. And I think I should be mad at you or something.”

He handed her the bag, her purse, and her phone, steered her away from her briefcase. “No work. Not while you’re with me.”

Something about it should have pissed her off to no end, sent her into a tirade of “who do you think you are” and “fuck you, I’ll do what I want.” But at the moment she wanted nothing more than whatever he said. She was bone-tired, beyond exhausted, and actually fell asleep on the way to the airport as he drove them from her office.

“Wow,” she said, stretching and rubbing her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Well, you were right about one thing.” He smiled and kissed her cheek before climbing out of the driver’s side of the Jag. The gesture was so easy, natural, and wonderful she nearly burst into tears again. Good God, was he always going to be doing this to her? The valet opened her door and handed her out. Her mouth felt like she’d been on a bender, her head was fuzzy and starting to hurt. “You snore like a three-hundred-pound passed-out drunk.”

She shoved him, horrified, but catching that warm smile of his in spite of herself. “I need a toothbrush.” She held a hand over her mouth.

“C’mon. We’ve got an hour. We can freshen up in the VIP lounge.”

She walked into the packed airport, Evan’s hand on her hip in a way she’d never thought she’d like – a sort of possessiveness which made her inner feminist rise up and be bitchy. But she leaned into him and let it happen.

Chapter Two

“You need to be taught a lesson.” Bart’s raspy voice filled the room with malice.

“You don’t scare me, Bart,” she whispered, not meaning it but thinking she should say it.

“Don’t worry, Julie. I’m only gonna give you what you really want. You need this. So you won’t learn bad habits from pimply-faced teenagers.” He grabbed her arm as she tried to get past him in the small space. Her pulse raced and a cold sweat made her shiver. “It’s okay, gorgeous,” he insisted, his slight lisp and strong cologne making her want to hold her nose and puke at the same time. His finger moved between her arm and body, making her jump. “Oh, sweetie, you’re lucky, did you know that?” He loomed over her. “So lucky I’m here to teach you…”